


Haat Verd

by TheAceApples



Category: Red vs. Blue, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 'Rexster' is this fandom's platonic 'sourwolf' don't @ me, Alien Temples (Red vs. Blue), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Trooper/Trooper Relationships, Crossover Shenanigans, GFY, Multi, fudging the timeline to suit the author's needs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-04-20 00:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14249229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/pseuds/TheAceApples
Summary: Barriss Offee took a right turn when before she might have taken a left, everything changes, and six years into the Clone Wars, the 501st and the 212th find themselves in a strange temple with no way out.At the end of "Test Your Might", Caboose isn't the only one to step back out of the Testing Grounds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I give you: Starvb! Thank you to Poplitealqueen, Norcumi, Sroloc_Elbisivni, and @aerefyr for beta-ing!

“Sir,” Rex began, gently pushing General Kenobi to lie back down against the carved stone wall. “Kix told you not to move. And we both know your commander will have my _shebse_ if you get injured on my watch.”

A small explosion sounded in the distance and the general raised an eyebrow at him. “Surely Cody will understand such… extenuating circumstances,” Kenobi replied with a grunt of pain. In an expansive gesture, his arm swept from one end of the open-ceiling room to the other and Rex’s gaze followed.

He and General Kenobi were hunkered down with Kix and any injured brothers under his tender care in the corner farthest away from the single entrance/exit. The rest of the men who could still walk—a mix of Torrent and Ghost—were tasked with turning the door and extending corridor into a choke-point for pursuing Separatist forces. In the center stood Rex’s own general being briefed by Fives and Boil while examining the beam of golden energy that emerged from deep beneath the temple and shot into the sky.

It was, of course, their reason for putting boots on the nameless planet at the edge of the Unknown Regions in the first place. Specifically, the keen interest that Dooku and his latest pawn had in what reports called “an energy source of immense power and unknown provenance.”

“With all respect, sir,” Rex said with a raised brow of his own, his bucket off and clipped to his belt. _“Everything_ with you Jedi is an ‘extenuating circumstance’—he'll kick my ass if you come back with so much as a hangnail.”

“Well then I suppose you'd better get to it, Commander,” Kenobi said with an answering smirk. “I'd hate to distract you from whatever daring heroics you have planned to get us out of this mess.”

 _“Hmph._ ” Shaking his head, Rex turned and moved away, passing Kix who was heading toward Kenobi with purpose. Just loud enough to be heard, he threw the words, “Almost makes me miss Skywalker,” over his shoulder, startling a laugh out of Kenobi.

Rex’s general half-turned as he approached and acknowledged him with a nod. “Commander Rex,” she said, warm but exhausted. “Master Obi-Wan going to stick around, you think?”

“General Tano,” Rex greeted, nodding at Fives and Boil as they finished up their reports and moved off to assist the others. Tano made sure to squeeze both of their shoulders bracingly before they left, well aware of how demoralizing it was to have entered the sixth year of the war, yet still have little to show for it. “He'll live to cause that _hut’uun_ grandmaster of his more trouble yet.”

Tano mustered up a smile at that but its edges were worn. She smoothed an anxious hand down one of her head-tails—which, after what Kix and General Ti agreed _had_ to have been her final growth cycle, now reached her waist—and turned her troubled gaze to the inscriptions carved into the heart of the temple walls. “And the men?” she asked after a tense moment. “How many casualties?”

The line of Rex’s shoulder relaxed minutely as he actually had good news. “Jaks took a bolt to his upper thigh, probably won't be able to walk on his own. Chrys is making noise about his arm’s servos acting up and that's why he hasn't shot straight all day, _‘ori’haat’_ , but I'm calling banthashit. Wooley got smacked around during that first engagement, possible concussion. And Tup’s headaches are acting up again. No fatalities. We may be limping, but we're fighting fit.”

 _“Good,”_ Tano breathed. “That's—that's good to hear, Rexster. Anything else to report?”

“Not much, sir, besides Kix’s continued desire to sit on General Kenobi. Fives relay anything useful?”

Tano gave a forceful, frustrated sigh. “Not as much as I'd like...” She gestured at a lone brother, borrowed from Fox’s Guard rather than being one of their own, examining the symbols carved on the back wall with relish. “Lingo hasn't deciphered _much,_ but he at least recognizes the writing system, and it confirms what we suspected coming in.”

Rex cocked his head to the side, waiting.

“It's derivative of the Sith language. This place is, or was, a Sith temple.”

Almost classically conditioned by that point, a headache began to form behind Rex’s eyes. A Sith temple. Of course. Because if there was anything left in the galaxy that could have stoked Dooku’s near-religious zeal, it was the possibility of learning more about the Sith. With his old, treasonous Master dead going on three years, there was no one left to teach him, and he had become more and more frantic in his pursuit of knowledge and power.

Rex wished he would just give up already. And then he wished the witch was with them. She'd probably have a better time translating the writing, but then again, maybe she wouldn't. As Rex understood it, Dooku had only taught Ventress _just_ enough to keep her from clawing her way out of the Dark, just enough to keep her dependent. Teaching her even the barest hint of self-sufficiency probably would have been counter-productive.

Still, it would've been nice to have another Force-user around.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his slightly-too-long curls. “You said Lingo can read some of it, though. He know what this damned light-show is then?”

“Of sorts,” Tano replied, giving the golden beam of light one last uneasy glance before crossing the room. Rex’s last remaining batchmate had at some point pulled off his bucket and tossed it aside, presumably so he could get an unobstructed view of the markings. The fact that he'd crouched down and leaned so close that his nose was nearly touching the polished stone also probably helped. “Any progress, _ori’vod ?”_

Rex somehow managed to conjure up the energy to be amused at the way his brother flailed his way upright at the intrusion.

“General!” Lingo yelped, turning to get a better look at them. His face nearly turned as red as his hair. “Uh, right, progress. Well, I've _almost_ managed to figure out what this light is, exactly. So there's that.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“It's a… nerve-center, almost,” he explained, face lighting up as it always had back on Kamino when he was picking apart a new language. “Apparently there's a bunch of temples scattered all over the—universe, I think this word is—and this is a place where they all… sync up, I suppose?”

“So it was their headquarters,” Rex offered, trying to fit the concepts of _Sith temple_ and _command structure_ together in a way that he could understand. Apparently he'd failed at the start, however, as Lingo shook his head.

“Not quite, sir,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck while he glanced at the indecipherable squiggles again. “I used the term ‘nerve-center’ for a reason. It's much more of an organic structure than a mechanical, or even military, one. It's a—natural convergence point of some sort. A place where the energy they harvested would collect naturally.”

“What do you mean they ‘harvested’ the energy?” Rex couldn't help but interject, whipping his head around to glare at the offending beam. “You mean they _weaponized_ it?”

“No, nothing like that. Honestly, the word could also mean ‘harness’ or ‘manipulate’. ‘Harvest’ is just my best guess, but they _did_ use it somehow.” Lingo gave them both an apologetic look. “I'm sorry, it's not very clear. It's all couched in very… _mystical_ terms, almost. There's a lot of metaphor and references to other people and places that I simply have no context for, and that's assuming I'm getting any of this right, since it appears to be a very obscure dialect. The closest word I can come up with that fits the description of the beam is ‘doorway.’”

Tano frowned. “What do you mean it's a doorway? Is it magickal in origin?”

“Without the proper equipment, I have no way of knowing,” Lingo admitted. “Honestly, though, most of the… text, I suppose, focuses less on the _what_ and more on the _who._ Apparently, only a certain person—or type of person? Not sure about that—can access it in the first place. Again, it's _very_ difficult to translate when I'm missing most of the context, but it repeats fairly regularly and I _think_ it means… ‘great destroyer’?”

Rex and General Tano exchanged looks of alarm, but Lingo was quick to reassure them. Or, at least, he did his best. “That's only my best guess, though. It describes this person, or persons, as having to possess—I _think_ —‘immenseness of vigor’ and, um, ‘clear-headedness’, maybe?”

“‘Great strength and mental clarity,’” General Kenobi called from his place on the floor, several meters away. He motioned to Dawn—hovering protectively around Jaks as any _vo’duur_ would—who carefully pulled him to his feet, before making his way over to where they stood. “And it's like as not ‘true warrior’ rather than ‘great destroyer’, if you don't mind me saying.”

 _“Master,”_ Tano said reprovingly, even as she carefully leaned down and wrapped an arm around him. “You should stay off your feet, you're injured.”

General Kenobi waved the words away. “Nonsense, Ahsoka. Kix assures me it's nothing more than bruising. No breaks, no bleeds, no reason not to do my part. And I do hope you don't mind the interruption, Lingo.”

“Of course not, sir,” the trooper in question replied, concern for the High General showing in the tightness around his mouth. “Didn't think you'd know Sith, though, if you don't mind me saying, sir.”

“Hmmm, I don't know much,” Kenobi admitted, trying to maneuver himself around Tano so that he was supported rather than physically held, their blue and gold armors clacking together. “But those _particular_ phrases _are_ rather known to me. I spent several months as a Junior Padawan writing something of a dissertation on the subject, you see.”

“You did?” Tano said curiously. _“Why?”_

Kenobi’s smile looked a little fuzzy around the edges and Rex wondered if Kix had actually managed to give him something for the pain. “Well, my Master was off on a long-term mission and I was assigned the dubious pleasure of picking out a piece of Sith lore and analyzing it. Something obscure, or particularly polarizing; something to keep me occupied for a long stretch of time, you understand. I chose a partial prophecy we had in our records from the Massassi: the original Sith species.”

“And now there's a prophecy,” Rex muttered while Lingo gave a long, low whistle and said, “The Sith were an entire _species?”_

“Mmm, oh, yes. Almost entirely Force-sensitive, in fact, and naturally in tune with the Dark Side,” Kenobi said, carefully lowering himself down on one knee to examine the etchings himself. “Their home-planet was, of course, the ancient Sith homeworld Korriban, but they migrated Galactic Southwest to Yavin Four after it became uninhabitable. I'd be more alarmed about the presence of one of their temples here in the Unknown Regions, of all places, if it weren't for this energy source. The writings I studied also mentioned what was generally accepted to mean ‘gateway’. Your ‘doorway’, Lingo.”

“There's that word again,” Tano said ruefully. “But what does that _mean_ , Master?”

General Kenobi was silent for several moments. The muffled clanking of approaching droids and low _boom_ of far-off blast-doors being blown off their hinges provided an excellent backdrop of drama for his next statement.

“I believe,” he said, very carefully, “that it means one of us will have to go through the gateway.”

\- - -

 _“Absolutely not,”_ Rex announced over the two generals arguing which of them should go. “I forbid it.”

“We both outrank you,” said Kenobi mildly, while Tano glared at them both. “You can't technically _forbid_ us from doing anything, Commander.”

Rex raised an eyebrow at the challenge. “Really now? Kix!” he called over his shoulder. “Would you give General Kenobi a clean bill of health?”

Crouched over the injured 212th medic—a blond brother by the name of Helix, famous for his liking of both jewel-toned hair dye and Twi’leks—Kix didn’t hesitate to whip his head around and bellow, “Don’t you _fucking_ _dare_ , Kenobi! I will _fucking_ _sedate_ _you_ and carry you out of this Sith-hole like a _fucking_ _princess_ if I have to!”

Satisfied, Rex crossed his arms and aimed a challenging look at the generals. “Medical outranks everyone, _sir,”_ he said smugly. “Since Kix has declared you unfit for active duty, that makes General Tano the highest-ranking officer on the ground. And the highest-ranking officer _cannot”—_ he glared pointedly at his general—“throw themself into an unknown beam of energy just because they think they’ll come out the other side.”

General Kenobi looked amused, in that tired way of his, but General Tano—

“You can't be serious,” she _snarled,_ fangs flashing in the sparking light of the beam. “With Cody in medical and Wooley down, we’ll have _zero commanders_. Chrys is our _only captain_ with Jesse on loan to the Pack. Fives and Boil are good lieutenants, but we both know Tup can hardly think through those headaches and don't _think_ I didn't notice Gregor’s episode yesterday morning. Our command structure is already _decimated,_ if you go—”

“—then both of our generals will be where they _should be_ and will _hold the line,_ ” Rex growled back, stepping right into her space and tilting his head up so he could meet her glare with his own. “You are our generals— _cuun_ _Traat’ade_ —and _you are not expendable_.”

 _“You're my big brother and neither are you!”_ Tano fairly exploded, breath coming in harsh, trilling gasps. It was very quiet suddenly, for all that the unrelenting march of clankers could be heard echoing down the stone halls of the temple. She closed her big blue eyes, took a visibly deep breath to steady herself, and opened them again. Softer, quieter, she pleaded, “Please don't go—not when we can't keep you safe.”

Rex softened.

Reaching up, _carefully,_ he cupped a hand around the back of Ahsoka’s neck and gently guided her head down so that their foreheads touched. “Don't worry, sir,” he breathed. “Won't be a moment.”

Then he took one, two, three steps backward, off the edge and into the light.

\- - -

Commander Rex’s boots hit the solid, stone floor of the temple with a soundless thud.

Blinking away the spots in his eyes, Rex automatically pulled Vigilance and Negotiator from their holsters and held them at high ready. He seemed to be in a different part of the temple—no beam in the center, but the architecture was the same, with a strange, dark blue cast to it. No signs of movement, either flesh or durasteel.

Rex made a slow, careful sweep of the wide-open space before putting Negotiator back in its holster, keeping Vigilance in his right hand. He resolved to investigate the surrounding area as well, but just as he made to take the first step—

**“SHAALOUKUUA… SURAKIE SUTOYO…”**

The voice, deep and vast and containing multitudes, didn't just shake the temple’s foundations, but seemed to reverberate inside his mind as well. Part of Rex—the part that had faced Sith and witches, darksiders and demons, and knew what that kind of power could do—wanted to freeze. The part that remembered the chill that always shot to his bones in the presence of the Dark, and felt nothing like that now, told that impulse to shut its damned mouth and stay calm.

Rex resettled his stance and grip on his deece, continuously scanning the room for the speaker, before very carefully calling out, “I don't understand Massassi.”

**“HMMM.”**

The bones of Rex’s legs rattled with the force of the unknown contact’s consideration. Then, a moment later, in a single, rumbling voice:

**“The language… is ancient Sangheili. Now… who… are… you…?”**

Rex blinked. That was—not what he had expected. Still, a question deserved an answer. “I’m Senior Commander Rex of the Five-Hundred-and-First Legion of the Grand Army of the Republic. Who the hells are you?”

Unbidden, various confrontations sprang to the forefront of Rex’s mind— _hunting Sergeant Slick down with Cody back on Christophsis during the first few months of the war_ and _the witch using the Force to hold him in mid-air by the throat_ and _an angry Besalisk with hatred in his eyes, spewing poison and filth about his brothers and their_ Traat’ade—

**“I am a construct left behind by my Creators to watch over their legacy and ensure it does not fall into unworthy hands… However, I was not given a designation of my own before my Creators’ departure.”**

Rex blinked rapidly and shook his head, trying to keep track of the speaker’s explanation through the inexplicable wanderings of his mind. It was difficult, far more difficult than it should have been; like he was trying to move through the burning winds and biting snow of Ordo Plutonia. It was even becoming harder to stand.

“You're”— _R2-D2 swearing in binary like a veteran brother_ and _C-3PO, stuffy and neurotic and always fussing around Skyberrie’s apartments in 500 Republica_ —“some kind of droid?”

 _Med-droids running blood-work and taking hair-samples the second he’s decanted in Tipoca City_ and _the mouse-droid some clever, trouble-making brother had strapped a vibroblade to and let loose aboard the_ Resolute _to wreak havoc_ and _battle-droids marching by the thousands on the surface on Geonosis_ and _assassin droids clawing their way out of the Lawquanes’ cornfield, like a demented nightmare come to life for his poor, violence-hating_ ori’vod _and his family_ —

 **“Hmmm, imprecise, but not entirely inaccurate. I have no physical housing beyond the crystalline lattice-network of my original memory core, but the means of my genesis** **_were_ ** **artificial, rather than organic.”**

“I see,” Rex gritted out, trying to brace himself against the increasing difficulty of remaining upright. “That's very”— _a civilian, species unknown, lying on the dirty floor of a cave and bracing themself against the chest of a shiny too new to have a name while Kix knelt between their legs and told them to breathe a certain way through the pain_ and _innumerable rows of growth-jars all filled with tiny_ vod’ike _that would hopefully be decanted in a galaxy without war_ and _Skyberrie’s_ riduur _, their patron Senator, with her stomach distended and Skyberrie fairly glowing with pride as he shouts_ the doctor says it’s twins!—“ _interesting._ Didn't know they made droids like that. Don't think it's”—getting harder to breathe, vision beginning to tunnel, oxygen deprivation—“legal. In the Republic.”

The voice made a noise that Rex couldn't parse under the circumstances.

**“Your strength is impressive. I have increased the gravity around you by several magnitudes since you arrived; you've withstood it admirably.”**

Rex’s ears popped with the sudden release of pressure he hadn't consciously noticed, and he nearly fell on his face in pure relief. Damning the consequences to each of the Corellian hells in sequence, he ripped off his bucket and gulped down several deep breaths, feeling his head clear further and further with every inhale. “That was—that was _you?”_ he eventually panted out, looking around wildly for the speaker. Even the witch could never manage something like that without nearly burning herself out. _“Why?”_

 **“To test you,”** the voice said, as if it were obvious. **“My Creators gave me a single task above all others: to test the worthiness of all who seek their many gifts. It is my one, true purpose.”**

It felt as if every molecule of the air around Rex began to quiver and he saw _his brothers fighting and dying against a relentless horde of battle-droids with no hope of winning_ and _their commander stepping toward General Kenobi, who looks fit to burst with love and pride as he carefully slices the silka beads off her Akul-tooth headdress, walking back to them with her head held high as a newly-minted general_ and _carefully maneuvering an extremely sleep-deprived General Kenobi onto his cot, Rex’s arm wrapped carefully around his waist while Cody’s was tucked under the man’s armpits_ —

 **“What is** **_your_ ** **purpose, Senior Commander Rex?”**

Rex blinked. “My purpose is to serve the Republic,” he said automatically. Then, considering it further: “My purpose is to… protect my brothers and our _Traat’ade_ , as much as I can, while we keep the Galactic Republic and its citizens safe from those who wish to do them harm.”

 **“Hmmm… Are you _certain_** _ **?”**_ the voice asks, probing. **“Your brothers in arms… the sister of your soul… the great loves of your life… you would give them all up, to save this Republic?”**

More gradually than before, Rex thought of the Lawquanes farming peacefully on Saleucami, of Skyberrie and Amidala bouncing their beautiful children in their laps, of Senator Chuchi growing into herself and coming to champion his _vod’e_ as well. He thought of the Besalisk who owned a diner on one of the mid-levels on Coruscant and always greeted him and his brothers with armor-creaking hugs; he thought of his Commander’s _arpat’aliit_ in binders to be sold off by slaver-scum; he thought of the freedom-fighters on Ryloth and Onderon; he thought of younglings meditating at the Jedi Temple and cadets training to fight droids.

“Yes, I would,” he said softly. “If it meant peace, I’d give them up in a heartbeat. I’d give us all up.”

 **“Very well,”** the voice said, and Rex watched as a ball of red light coalesced in the center of the room before exploding outward into a figure ten, twenty, thirty meters in height. The… individual’s… species was unknown to Rex but he didn't need to wonder what, exactly, it was to _him_. **“It seems you, Senior Commander, are a true warrior.”**


	2. Te Kyr Cuyi Gebbar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as I was hoping for, but here, have an update: featuring Epsilon POV and they/them pronouns! Is it because Epsilon is made out of numbers? Is it because there's technically like seven other fragments inside Epsilon? Who's to say!
> 
> Also, thank you to Dr. Izzy O. Coffee on tumblr (@izzyovercoffee) for the chapter title. I don't know anything about Mando'a verb conjugation, so I dunno if the title is actually grammatically correct, but I got a kick out of it.

_“—and we’re back!”_

Four minutes and fifty-seven seconds after they send Caboose through the gateway, he reappears with a shout and a flash of light. If Epsilon had a body, they'd be expecting an adrenaline-crash in the near future; no need to borrow trouble, though, after Carolina’s experience through the damn thing.

She and Grey verbally trip over each other for a second trying to get his attention while Epsilon nudges her BioCom into scanning the big blue idiot but, like always, it just throws up an ‘UNK’ message next to his brain activity readout. “What happened?” they ask, when it becomes clear the damn thing won’t be giving them anything useful.

“Oh, yeah, I went to the bathroom and then I met some aliens and we became friends and they told me everything about the universe, and the meaning of life, and then—”

“Wait, an alien?” Tucker cuts in, and Epsilon wishes they could smack him with a newspaper. Fuck’s sake, you can’t just interrupt Caboose and expect him to keep hold of the conversational thread, and there are _questions_ they need _answered,_ dammit.

The urge loses its heat a microsecond later when the presence that’s tickled the edge of their awareness since the group arrived suddenly crystallizes into something immense, intricate—something unknowably old and _utterly_ foreign. It stretches to fill the entire structure, settling into every line and crevice of the alien temple. Its code dwarfs their own and they feel childlike and rudimentary in comparison.

Power surges all around and a familiar shape materializes behind Caboose. **“Greetings,”** a voice rumbles from the very stones, and Epsilon can feel Carolina’s shock and fear as she takes an automatic, panicked step back. Her urge is analogous to their own and they move their projection back along with the others, spitting out their own curse because against all odds, it _does_ actually help. The voice continues, unbothered, **“My apologies, but is there** **_anyone_ ** **else I could speak to? Perhaps someone with a broader vocabulary?”**

Epsilon’s code flickers like a human blink, and something in them is soothed by the knowledge that Caboose can and will bemuse and frustrate anything and everything, including millenia-old entities both vast and unknowable.

“Who…” Carolina tries, mustering past the human instinct to cower. Words fail her and she begins again. _“What_ are you?”

And Epsilon knows the answer. “He’s an A.I.,” they say reverently.

 **“Correct,”** the entity confirms, turning its attention onto them for several microseconds. Epsilon quakes at being the focus of such an immense consciousness, but it examines their code with what a human would describe as a critical eye before extending a single line of code—and their projection flickers as they recognize a handshake protocol in its foreign, Forerunner elegance. Then its attention moves on and Epsilon feels both relieved and bereft. **“I am a construct left behind by my creators to ensure that their gifts are passed down only to those who are worthy.”**

A shadow flickers across Carolina’s motion-tracker for a split-second before settling back down, and Epsilon sends the twins to investigate with barely a thought. They’ve finally settled back into existing within a human timeframe and are loathe to make the full transition back into the frustrating, lonely existence of being made out of numbers. It makes the code-screeching ridiculousness of the next several minutes slightly more bearable, at least.

\- - -

Epsilon tries not to listen in on Carolina’s personal thoughts whenever they can help it, but sharing actual physical brain space with her makes it impossible to ignore the small but loud corner of her mind ecstatically shrieking _Santa is real! Santa is r e a l !_ as she updates the convoy. It’s a comforting spark of normality among all the freaky bullshit, but all good things must come to an end, and the freaky bullshit returns in full force when they return to the group.

Then it’s all sword-keys, meddling space pirates, alien temples, and a possible way to cut the war short before everyone dies an awful death.

Until, of course, the other shoes drops: The Purge. From what Epsilon knows of the Forerunners, a genocidal ‘restart’ button is pretty in-line with the nigh-omnipotent society that accidentally created a pathogenic zombie bacteria and murdered all life in the galaxy to stop it. Whatever historical records and anecdotal evidence said about the Forerunners, they definitely seemed a lot more human than they probably ever wanted to admit. Epsilon doesn’t find that a comforting thought.

When the alien A.I. says it will update the maps sent to _all_ of the temples with the location of The Purge in its flat, matter-of-fact voice, dread coils in the depth of Epsilon’s code. The twins return in a jumbled mess of frenzied code just as the motion-tracker lights up like a Christmas tree and Epsilon’s shout of warning is only just in time for Carolina to act.

“And _that_ was close,” Caboose breathes, after the initial volley against them fades into silence and the bubble shield whirls around the group in unhurried hexagons. His semi-sentient assault rifle agrees.

Epsilon has no lungs to sigh with but that doesn’t stop them. “They’ve been here the whole time!” they gripe, kicking themself for not realizing. Alien constructs they could be forgiven for missing, but a human kill squad should have been child’s play.

“That’s right,” a smarmy voice growls from the landing above. “And now, thanks to you, we’ve got all the intel we need.”

Something about the new soldier stirs memory packets that belong to neither Epsilon nor Carolina, but Epsilon is too busy trying to calculate a way out of their latest mess and fires off a line of code to shut them back down. The twins twirl and collide, trying to get their attention, but Epsilon ignore them as well.

The roundabout accusation of rampancy has their projection flickering red for an indistinct moment before cooling back down to sapphire with the asshole’s parting shot: _I hope you said something meaningful the last time you saw them, ‘cause you won’t be seeing them again._

Hearing the fear, the confusion, the _panic_ as Kimball’s troops are ambushed and slaughtered is one of the worse experiences of their existence. Delta carefully archives every piece of information pouring out of the radio—for what, Epsilon refuses to consider. When Kimball screams at Doyle for reinforcements, Carolina latches desperately onto the opportunity.

“Doyle, wait! Can you hear me?” she reaches out, sounding remarkably put-together for a woman whose reality was crumbling around her yet again. “I know Kimball needs those reinforcements, but _we_ need them first.”

General Doyle sputters but lets Carolina explain their predicament.

\- - -

Carolina tells them to prep the speed unit and Omega isn’t the only part of them that snarls. Desperate and angry, Tucker implores the alien A.I. to _help them,_ but it replies that it isn’t its place to ‘meddle in human affairs’ before its projection winks out. Epsilon thinks they must imagine the A.I.’s lingering attention, the slight emphasis on the words _my place,_ until power begins to surge through the central beam.

_“Hit the deck!”_

They all—sans Caboose—manage to drop down just before a blinding flash erupts from the beam. Epsilon’s sensors are as thoroughly scrambled as Carolina’s sight, but the sounds of combat manage to filter through. When they recover, it’s to catch the tail-end of a four-on-one fight between the space pirates and someone in blue and white armor who executes a technically flawless spinning heel kick to the last pirate standing.

Blinking, Carolina is the first to recover from the unexpected rescue, and her paranoid Freelancer instincts kick in almost immediately. “Who are you,” she demands, stepping to the front of the group and leveling her battle rifle at center-mass.

On a spectrum of light invisible to the human eye, the twins circle excitedly around the figure as they carefully holster their—pistols, maybe?—and spread their hands non-threateningly. “Senior Commander Rex of the Five-Hundred-and-First Legion,” the soldier replies—male, confident, vaguely Australian—while at the same time as Caboose gasps, “Captain Rex!”

The barrel of Carolina’s gun dips just slightly. “Militia?” she asks, suspicion and confusion and hope all warring quietly inside her as ‘Rex’ gives Caboose a tiny nod and a fond, “Speedie.”

Epsilon is too busy to analyze the exchange, though Delta does his due diligence. Everything about the stranger is just slightly _off_ and it’s driving them crazy. His weapons give off an energy signal that Epsilon’s never _seen_ before, he has _no_ discernible IFF, _Senior Commander_ isn’t a rank in any military or militia on record that Epsilon can find, and his armor seems to be made out of a composite that their sensors keep sliding over, like it isn’t there. Even the motion-tracker doesn’t—

“You were _watching_ us,” Epsilon says abruptly, cutting off Carolina’s response and projecting themself squarely in front of Captain-Commander-Whoever. “I picked up a ghost signal earlier and after _these_ assholes”—they indicate the dead or unconscious space pirates—“showed up, I assumed it was them, but it was _you,_ wasn’t it?”

“You _knew_ someone else was here?” Tucker interjects, as much indignant as freaked out. _“Dude.”_

Epsilon ignores him.

The soldier, Rex, watches them with a white-knuckled grip on one of his pistols and a cautious head-tilt. Besides the lightning-quick reach for a weapon, his body-language remained carefully neutral. “This is unfamiliar territory, tinny,” he said slowly. “I had to do reconnaissance—make sure it was safe. And it wasn’t.”

“Of course it wasn’t; this is Chorus!” Tucker butts in, and Epsilon tries to ignore him harder. “How do you not _know_ that by now?”

“Oh, _he’s_ not from Chorus, sweetie,” Dr. Grey pipes up, staring at Rex like a Tyrannosaurus sizing up dinner. “He’s _far_ too well-trained. The _last_ time we had such a, well, _competent_ soldier in _either_ military was _well_ before the start of the war!”

Tucker makes a noise of frustration and throws up his hands. “So where the hell’s he from?”

“Oh, he’s one of my alien friends.”

They all turn to look at Caboose. “What,” Carolina says, succinct as ever.

“Wha—I— _guys,”_ Caboose sputters, gesturing emphatically at first Rex then central beam. “Rex was with Santa! He’s one of his elves!”

A throat clears and the group swings back around toward Rex. “I… don’t know what that means,” he says, shifting his stance slightly in a very Freelancer-y way, like Wash when he’s being particularly awkward. “But Captain Caboose and I _did_ meet in the, ah, proving grounds?”

 **“Indeed.”** The alien A.I., _Santa,_ reappears above them. **“Senior Commander Rex, of the Grand Army of the Republic, entered a gateway in his galaxy at the same relative linear point that Captain Caboose entered here. He was proven worthy and requested assistance in removing himself and his comrades from his point of ingress to a safer location.”**

“You wanted to go somewhere safe and you chose _here—”_

“—I’m more concerned with the ‘other galaxy’ part of that statement—”

“—do _you_ mean to say that you exist _outside_ of a _linear timestream?”_

Epsilon has to remind themself that A.I. programs can’t get headaches. _“Alright!”_ they screech, projection growing and distorting in their aggravation; Epsilon makes a note to consult with Sigma and Omega about the recent lapses at some point in the nebulous future. “Can everyone _please_ calm down for _one second_ so we can focus on the _important parts?”_

Tucker and Dr. Grey remain quiet at their outburst, and though Carolina sends a pointed little burst of annoyance-confusion-concern their way, she too settles down to let them think. It doesn’t take long. A brief flicker and their projection is back to normal sapphire tones and homunculic proportions.

“Okay, new guy.”

“Senior Commander—”

“—Rex, yeah, I got it.” _We are running short on time,_ Delta prods, when they take a few microseconds’ pause. “Wherever you were before wasn't safe—why, and is it gonna cause us problems?”

Senior Commander Rex puts hands behind his back and stands military straight. “Clankers had us penned in with the light show, no way out, and the war’s got us stretched thin, so reinforcements weren't coming anytime soon. Our language expert said someone considered ‘worthy’ might be able to use the beam to get out.”

“‘The best way out is always through,’” Carolina quotes, shaking away a memory of—her mother—reading Robert Frost late at night when—her father—was too absorbed in his work to kiss her good night. She gives Epsilon a soft, mental nudge and they cede the floor to her. “You went through the testing grounds; you passed.”

He shrugs. “Wasn't the first time I had some— _one_ rooting around my head,” he says blandly, and Epsilon suspects the commander had been about to say ‘thing’. “At least, er, _Santa_ was nicer about it than some. And unless the clankers have gotten a lot cleverer in the past hour or so, no, they won't be following.”

“What do your numbers look like?”

“One joint company, no casualties when I left. Thirty-one soldiers besides myself, and two generals.”

 _“Experienced_ soldiers and generals?” They all turn to look at Grey, except Caboose who seems to be staring into empty space like a cat. She looks back at them all pointedly. “Hey, we can use all the help we can get.”

“Fair,” Carolina acknowledges, “which brings us to the last question. Like the rest of us, with the exception of Dr. Grey, you're not from Chorus and you don't have a real stake in any of this.” She gestures to the space pirates at _this,_ and something about Commander Rex’s body language becomes smug. “That being said, what's your opinion on taking advantage of a civil war to commit genocide for the sake of corporate profits?”

 _“Poor,”_ Commander Rex growls, voice turning gravelly. “Very, _very_ poor.”

“Excellent,” she responds with a feral grin, relishing their apparent change in fortunes. Epsilon lets themself ride the wave of the emotion. “How do you feel about giving us a hand with a little problem of ours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Homunculic" meaning "like, such as, or resembling a homunculus" as defined by me. [itislaw.gif]

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a: _haat_ \- "true/truth". _verd_ \- "soldier/warrior". _vod_ (pl. _vod'e_ ) - "sibling/comrade/buddy". _hu'tuun_ \- "coward", worst insult in Mando culture, adopted by clones. _ori_ \- prefix meaning "big, extreme, very" (ex. _ori'vod_ = "big brother". ex. _ori'haat_ = lit. "extremely true", colloq. "swear down/no bullshit"). _riduur_ \- "partner/spouse". _vo'duur_ \- non-canon slang/compound word for two troopers who have a _riduurok_ (love bond/marriage agreement), combining _vod_ and _riduur_ , lit. "comrade-spouse". _cu'un_ \- "our". _Traat'ade_ \- non-canon word for Jedi, lit. "children of the Force". _'ika_ (pl. _'ike_ ) - diminutive suffix, "young, small, baby", can be added onto end of name to become very familiar (ex. _vod'ika_ , "little brother/sister"). _arpat'aliit_ \- non-canon word for "species/people of the same species", lit. "seed family".
> 
> More info on Traat'ade: http://kaasknot.tumblr.com/post/163599127059/kaasknot-there-seem-to-be-two-kinds-of-demonyms  
> More info on arpat'aliit: https://thefreelancerdivision.tumblr.com/post/172601576662/thefreelancerdivision-thefreelancerdivision
> 
> Lingo, CT-7560, belongs to charity_angel (although, I don't think he's supposed to be a redhead, I just _really_ wanted that line). He can be found in "A Rex By Any Other Name..." (https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310229)
> 
> Santa's Ancient Sangheili (Forerunner? Eh) translations brought to you by the Youtube closed captions.
> 
> "Skyberrie" brought to you by: a) fake Naboo marriage traditions in which the person of a lower social rank takes the surname of the person of a higher social rank (i.e. "Naberrie", Padme's civilian surname), b) Anakin's desire to keep his mother's name so he can find her in the afterlife, and c) my continued frustration that their portmanteau in fandom is "Anidala" because that's combining a personal name and a surname just to avoid "Anime" when "Skyberrie" was _right there_ , guys, it was _literally. right. there._
> 
> Also, Fives insists I let everyone know that when Torrent Company and Ghost Company team up like this, he insists on calling it "Toast Company".
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed this, please validate me.


End file.
